


Troubles of the Fire Crown

by Dragonsigma



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-09
Updated: 2015-02-09
Packaged: 2018-03-11 07:09:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 725
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3318581
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dragonsigma/pseuds/Dragonsigma
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s something simple, when it happens, a foolish mistake, a spilled cup of tea or a torn scroll, not even worth notice. But it’s been days since he’s slept, and so he doesn’t realize he’s raised his voice until he turns, and goes still, finding a flame in his hand and a servant trembling at his feet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Troubles of the Fire Crown

   He’s heard the whispers, heard what his ministers won’t dare say to his face but mutter amongst themselves when they think he can’t hear.  _Only a boy, weak, unbalanced._

     For the first few months, the work is enough to keep him distracted from his doubts, keep him focused on what he must do for his country, for the world. But the fears are still there.      

     The generals think he’s too soft, that he’s shaming the Fire Nation's strength with all the concessions he makes to the other nations. The rest of the world says he’s already too much like Ozai, that he’s only a breath away from turning tyrant and burning away their hard-won freedom. 

     The issue with the colonies was challenge enough, and that was only the beginning. The arguments of both sides still ring in his ears: the Earth villagers demanding their sovereignty, mixed families proclaiming their loyalty, and of then his ministers insisting that he not throw away everything the Fire Nation has gained in the past hundred years.

     The palace staff are hesitant to approach him, after the way his father and sister treated them, and their fearful deference aggravates and shames him by turn. Things would be easier without all this bowing and scraping- but then, they have their reasons for treating him as they would a cruel master. And Zuko fears giving them more reasons.

     It’s something simple, when it happens, a foolish mistake, a spilled cup of tea or a torn scroll, not even worth notice. But it’s been days since he’s slept, and so he doesn’t realize he’s raised his voice until he turns, and goes still, finding a flame in his hand and a servant trembling at his feet. And there’s something about the image, something far too familiar about this frightened boy looking up at the master he has displeased, submitting himself to whatever pain his disobedience has earned, that evokes things he’s spent the past year trying not to think about. Somehow he manages to order the servant out of the room, and after the boy has scrambled to his feet and down the hall, he’s alone with the maps on the table and his father's crown in his hair and the thought of what he might have done clawing cold at his heart.

_What if I really am like him?_

     He desperately wants to believe that he wouldn’t have hurt the boy, couldn’t have hurt him, but he knows how destructive and foolish he can be in anger, and suddenly believing that he isn’t a danger to everybody seems only a trap. This fear is nearly too much to bear, but false comfort might bring worse horrors upon his people and his friends. He doesn’t dare trust himself.  

     Mai finds him like this, shaking and staring blankly at the maps of the lands his father and grandfather have scorched and stolen. And he knows what must happen next. She's going to leave him again, and better that she does, so that he can't ever hurt her.

     “Zuko, what are you doing? There’s not another meeting until tomorrow. Come to bed.” No accusation yet. But it’s only a matter of time.

     “I’m… Mai, you can’t stay. I’m turning into him.” There, he’s said it, and the words press down on him.

     “No, you’re not,” she says, as if it’s something obvious and true. 

     “But how do you know? I get so _angry_  and then what if I do something terrible?"

     “You won’t. You didn’t hurt that boy you scared. You can control yourself, Zuko, you know that."

     She’s right, and his spiraling thoughts pause for a moment in the realization that, yes, he might have lost his temper, but he _realized_ it, and stopped himself from doing worse. Which is better, far better, than the burning _intent_  with which Ozai acted, or the mindless rage Zuko had fallen into so many times before he realized his destiny. 

     “I guess so,” he says. “It’s just so hard… not to be afraid."

     “I suppose your uncle would say it’s caution, or something like that. Come to bed, Zuko. You’ve done enough work tonight."

     And he follows her, with a strange but undeniable hope that things will be better tomorrow, that he will be stronger and make better decisions, and someday, be the leader his nation needs.


End file.
